


Eager Hands

by lacewingss



Series: Inquisitor Nethra Lavellan [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drinking, Established Relationship, F/M, Sexual Content, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3217712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewingss/pseuds/lacewingss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor is feeling frisky after a night of drinks, and she cannot wait to get Cullen alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eager Hands

The night is late in Skyhold, yet that tavern is lively with conversation and bright from well stoked fires. A table set off in the corner is the center of the merriment and even as the moon dips lower in the sky raucous laughter fills the air from it's inhabitants.

The Inquisitor is seated among her friends, enjoying the momentary solace from war, and partaking in perhaps too many drinks. She is uncertain just how many times her glass has been refilled and is not ashamed to realize that she does not care. If there was ever a time to indulge she can not think of a better one. The Inquisition has just won a major victory at Adamant, and for now they are safe.

She shifts from conversation to conversation, chiming in when she has something to say but mostly just listening. Varric is the middle of some story or other, with Cassandra scoffing when he no doubt elaborates more than necessary. Bull and Sera are discussing tits, and Nethra cannot help but pay special attention when they describe just exactly what they fancy best. She briefly glances down at her own, which are well hidden in her tunic. Functional, but not flattering. They were nice, though. At least, _she_ always thought they were. And Cullen didn't seem to have anything negative to say about them.

Her gaze moves from her chest to the man sitting next to her as she thinks of him. He is uncharacteristically relaxed, and she guesses it has much to do with the empty glass in front of him. It had been a struggle to get him out of his office and down to the tavern, but in the end she had won and he now seems more than glad to have given in. He is in the middle of trading solider stories with Blackwall, who is sitting across the table. Nethra only half listens to what they are saying; she is too busy letting her eyes roam over Cullen's features.

At first she did not pay much attention to Cullen's appearance. He was just another human she had to work with. The broad shoulders, thick limbs, and bulky muscles were not traits she often associated with attraction. The slim, sharp features of, say, Solas, were more to her liking. That had changed, however. The closer she became to Cullen the more she found she was attracted to him. And now...well, now there are days she can not stop herself from staring at him in wonder and desire. Desire she now feels well up inside her insistently.

Her eyes linger on Cullen as she swallows her ale, watching him in such a way that he must feel it, as he turns his head in query. He has no idea what fantasies are playing behind her sparkling eyes, and some how that is more alluring than if he did.

Nethra grins at him, shaking her head. _Nothing is amiss_ she tries to relate with a glance. She watches him turn to continue his conversation with Blackwall before deciding it is time for a new game.

Her nimble fingers slip beneath the table unnoticed. With little trouble they find the hard muscle of Cullen's thigh and the soft leather of his breeches. At first it seems a loving gesture; just a reminder than she is there beside him. He does not pause in his conversation, nor does he flinch. Nethra is not content for her hand to remain where it is, though. The drinks Bull has been pouring down her throat have made her bold, and she slides her hand farther up Cullen's leg, fingertips brushing the fabric stretched over his groin. This catches his attention and she feels his body tense in response.

She cannot stifle a giggle as Cullen gives her a side long look of mortification.

“Something funny over there, Tumbles?” Varric is watching her like a hawk. _Damn him and his perception._

“No, no. Just happy.” She smiles broadly and Varric seems mollified, though she is certain he will be keeping an eye on her for the rest of the night to see what she is up to. Another story for his books, no doubt.

Crisis averted, she continues on under the table. Deft fingers trace the ever stiffening outline of Cullen's erection and fabric stretches taut as he becomes aroused further. Nethra is enjoying the feel of his hardness under her palm, and even more the way he is doing his best not to squirm.

“-No, I never saw one like that until...” he is speaking to Blackwall still, his voice admirably even. _Must not be doing enough_ Nethra thinks through the fuzz in her mind. With another slight smile to Cullen she skillfully unties the knot of cord securing his breeches, loosening them enough for her hand to slip inside.

Skin on skin contact brings a momentary shortness of breath to Nethra in her excitement. The familiar feel of Cullen's girth wrapped in her palm sends desire shooting through her, hot and heady. After a pause she begins to stroke what length that she can manage to reach with her hand contorted under the table. She hears a stifled moan escape Cullen's lips next to her and she is proud of herself for breaking his calm facade.

She continues her slow, deliberate stokes while focusing her attention on Cullen and Blackwall's conversation. The color is rising in Cullen's cheeks and there is a visible sheen of sweat starting at his temples. He appears to be having a hard time following the flow of the conversation, but Blackwall has had enough drinks not to notice.

“Cullen,” she says sweetly, all innocence in her large eyes. “Why don't you tell Blackwall that story about the lake you told me? I bet he'd think it's funny.” Her thumb rubs over the tip of his cock as she finishes her sentence and she feels the slickness of his arousal stick to her fingertip.

“I-uh, I'm not sure he...mmh.” Cullen is trying so hard to hide his pleasure that Nethra for a moment feels bad for putting him in this situation. It fades when she feels him slouch down in his chair, giving her easier access. “I believe I've had too much to drink t-to tell it right.”

Blackwall laughs, the sound rising over all other conversations in the room. “You've got a light weight on your hands, Inquisitor.”

By now Nethra knows Cullen's ticks and tells well enough to realize she is about to go too far. His breathing, though steady, is noticeably faster, and his eyes keep darting to her with a look of desire and a hint of panic. If she continues she might have a mess on her hands, quite literally.

She gives him one last stroke before removing her hand and retying the laces of his pants with one hand. When done, she takes one last swallow of her drink and stands up. “Well, I've got...you know, Inquisitor things to do in the morning. So 'night, everyone.” Her speech is slurred slightly, tongue thick and sticking to the roof of her mouth. She extends her hand to Cullen, urging him to take it and rise with her. “Cullen, walk me to my quarters?”

Everyone knows he will be doing more than walking her back, but Nethra no longer cares. These people are her friends, and they will not judge. Varric is even chuckling into his drink, and Dorian gives Cullen a slap on the back along with a wink.

Cullen stands and takes Nethra's hand; his is large and rough and yet somehow still fits in hers perfectly. They say their goodbyes as they walk past their friends and out the door. The cool air hits them all at once, and Nethra snuggles closer to Cullen for warmth.

As they cross the courtyard Nethra leans on Cullen more than she usually would; her steps are uneven and her balance askew. The many drinks she has put away are now showing themselves in the lack of normally perfect balance. Cullen himself stumbles once, but catches his footing quickly. The night is quiet around them, as much of Skyhold is deep in slumber. It is clear above them, the stars bright and far from reach.

They do not speak until they reach the door to her quarters. With surprising agility for her inebriated state Nethra slips from under Cullen's arm and presses herself against him, her body flush with his. Caught unaware, Cullen staggers back against the door, effectively pinning himself between it and Nethra. She rises up to her toes in order to place a kiss under his jawline, right where his neck meets. His moan is enough to make her continue, brushing her lips in a line down his neck until she reaches the fabric of his shirt. She can feel each muscle of his body as she presses deeper into him; the outline of his growing erection hard against her stomach.

His hand reaches up from his side and runs through Nethra's hair. She sighs at the feeling, enjoying the way his fingers tug at the wind blown knots. Her own hand reaches down between his legs and starts to rub him over rough fabric.

“Dear maker, Nethra, are you actually trying to drive me crazy?” His words in her ear make her shudder, and she wants nothing more than him: all of him, and just for her.

“Why, am I doing a good job?” Her voice, in between kisses, is breathy and sultry.

  
“Clearly.” He can no longer remain still, not with her touching him in such a way. With little effort he shifts and grabs Nethra under her thighs, lifting her up until she wraps her legs around his waist. His hands move to cup her behind and hold her steady. Their lips find each others quickly and they both taste like ale: slightly bitter and somehow sweet. The kiss deepens as Nethra opens her mouth and lets Cullen's tongue enter, deliciously mixing with the heat of her own.

One hand leaves its place on her ass, and when she curiously opens her eyes she sees the door swing open behind them. Unwilling to break contact, Nethra continues to cling to Cullen as he walks with her legs wrapped around him. He sets her down on the desk, oblivious to the stacks of papers that are displaced and drift to the floor.

Now safely in the privacy of her quarters, Nethra wastes no time stripping Cullen of his clothing. She starts first with the coat he is so fond of. The fur is soft on the palm of her hand as she grips it and pulls it from his shoulders, revealing a simple undershirt. That goes, too, and she takes a moment to run her hands over the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. They are tight under her fingers, and she so desperately wants to feel them pressed against her. Next she unties his pants for the second time that night, easily sliding them to the floor and revealing the hardness of his cock.

She smiles up at him, her hand going to work stroking him as he stands in front of her. He must place a hand on the desk to support himself as she begins to kiss the line of his abs, licking dangerously close to the tip of his erection. His moans spur her on and she stands, lithely pulling down her own leggings with a free hand. She pushes on to her toes, reaching up in order to place her lips once again on Cullen's. Her body stiffens when she feels his calloused hand run over the bare flesh of her thighs, inching its way towards the heat between her legs.

They walk backwards, entwined, until they tumble onto the bed. The slippery Orlesian silks are chilled with the cool air of the room and feel refreshing on their passion heated skin. Cullen lifts Nethra's tunic over her head, and even now he is careful to not catch it in her hair or tug it painfully over any injures. She is thankful for his thoughtfulness, and that he is always mindful of her comfort.

With her shirt now tossed aside, Nethra looks more attentively at her breasts, recalling the conversation in the bar she had eavesdropped on. They are small – nothing like what she imagines Josephine or other more busty women's to look like. Her areola are as dark as the freckles that litter her skin, and take up a large portion of what fullness there is to her breasts.

“Do you like my tits? I mean, really?”

Caught off guard, Cullen stares blankly at her. “Yes? Is..is this a trick question?”

“Jus' wondering. Bull and Sera, they were- ahh.” Her words cut out as she sucks in a sharp breath. As if to support his claim, Cullen has started to kiss her exposed breasts. His lips leave wet patches on her skin, which his breath washes over and causes her to shiver in pleasure. A gasp escapes her own lips as she feels the pressure of his teeth on her nipple, tugging just enough for her to feel a blossom of warming pain. Her hand moves to his head, urging him to continue. A flick of his tongue leaves her breathing heavy and arching her back. All too soon the suction on her nippple is gone, and he is again kissing the fullness of her breasts. He makes it a point to try to kiss each freckle on them, but there are far too many.

Nethra enjoys basking in the attention, but she is also impatient. She has been waiting all night for this – she wants Cullen, and she wants him _now._

With one quick movement she rolls to the side and then on top of the large man, her legs to either side as she straddles him. By now he knows she is too quick for him to catch, and he does not mind her changing positions whenever she wishes. It takes the pressure off of him to do it, which he is still self conscious about. He hasn't been with many women in his life, and he is forever nervous he will not please Nethra the way he wishes to.

Tonight, though, the worry is far from his mind.

She reaches down between them, grasping the base of Cullen's cock in her hand and guiding it into her. The moment she slides her body down the length, fully taking in every inch, she moans in pleasure. She feels his hands settle on her waist, not controlling her motion so much as just feeling the subtle movements of the muscles beneath her skin.

She begins to grind herself against him in more precise, sharp thrusts. Her rhythm is mesmerizing, and Cullen cannot keep his eyes from watching her hungrily as her hair slips in front of her face in sweat drenched streaks. She is lost in the moment, her eyes shut lightly and her skin flushing a dusty rose over weathered tan. He can feel her clench around him, feel the nearness of her climax and he is not ready for it, not ready to give up the feeling of being inside her.

Moving his hands from her waist to her hips he effortlessly flips her over, all without withdrawing from the heat and wetness between her legs. Nethra's eyes flash open at the sudden change, and she grins up at him. She wraps her arms around him, pressing fingertips into the knots in his shoulders as she kisses his neck, his chin, his lips; any part of him she can reach.

When he kisses the tips of her ears in return she lets out a delighted noise that nearly finishes him then and there. It is unlike her not to stifle her moans, and he finds that the sound of her pleasure heightens his own.

It does not take long for Cullen's even, full thrusts to bring Nethra over the edge. Her climax wracks her small body, every muscle contacting and shuddering with overwhelming pleasure. Her cries are no more restrained than was her need of release, and she is certain that all of Skyhold must hear her in the silence of the late hour. The unusual disregard to her volume effects Cullen more than she imagines it would, and with two more frantic thrusts he, too, peaks.

For a moment they lay still. Cullen is still holding himself above her, never forgetting he could very well crush the air from her. As their breathing returns to normal and their heart beats slow to a steady pace, Nethra raises her head enough to press an affectionate kiss to Cullen's lips. He smiles down at her – that warm, honest smile that Nethra has fallen so hopelessly in love with.

It does not take long for Nethra to drift into slumber after Cullen slides out from her and gathers her into his strong arms. Her eyes flutter shut to the sight of dawn creeping over the mountain peaks and the familiar pattern of Cullen's breathing.

 


End file.
